Balancing Act (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 3)

by Blake, Jill

  Balancing Act

  (The Santa Monica Trilogy, Book 3)

  By

  Jill Blake

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Heard your dad’s company is getting sued.”

  Zach dove for the ball, slamming his shoulder against the floor. “What?”

  Mike gave him a hand up. “I saw the CNS dinger on my way over. You didn’t know?”

  Zach scowled. As in-house counsel for Stewart & Landry LLC, it was his job to know. That’s why he regularly monitored the Courthouse News Service alerts. It figured this would happen the one day he headed out the door without checking his email.

  He swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead and readjusted his grip on the racquet. “Your serve.”

  Another minute passed in silence, punctuated by grunts and the slap of the ball against polyurethaned hardwood and tempered glass.

  “So who’s the plaintiff?” Zach asked when the volley ended.

  Mike shrugged. “Some woman claiming CEQA violations.”

  No surprise there. The California Environmental Quality Act was the bane of every developer’s existence, and a cash cow for any shady real estate lawyer who could find a tree-hugger willing to take up the cause.

  “Damn leeches,” he muttered.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’d think people would be grateful that we’re infusing life into a sluggish economy.” He struck the ball with such force that it rebounded off the back wall and would have hit Mike if he hadn’t jumped out of the way. “If not for us redeveloping the area, they’d have nothing but urban blight on their hands. Some of those buildings are barely standing, with so many code violations they should have been razed decades ago.”

  “Hey, don’t kill the messenger. If you want to be angry, take it out on the plaintiff’s attorney.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “Judge MacDowell’s daughter. Alice? Anna? Something with an A.”

  Zach drew up short. “Angie?”

  “Angela. That’s it. Pretty hot commodity in real estate law, from what I hear.”

  “Yeah.” Zach forced his attention back to the game.

  “Pretty hot in all respects, come to think of it.” Mike grinned. “The ass on that babe…”

  Zach gritted his teeth. “Grow up, would you?”

  “Oh, please. Like you haven’t thought the same thing?”

  “Not about her.”

  “What are you, blind?”

  “No. But her sister’s a friend of the family.”

  Mike blinked. “Then what’s she doing suing you?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

  ~

  The raised voices outside her office gave Angie a few seconds’ warning before the door burst open and a glowering Zachary Stewart stormed in.

  “What is this crap?” He flung a large manila envelope on her desk.

  “Hello, Zach.” She got up slowly. “I see the process server found you.”

  “What the hell are you trying to pull here?”

  Angie took her time responding. It wasn’t every day that six feet of ripped, fire-breathing male invaded her office. Her gaze slid down the broad shoulders and lean waist. Oh, my. The things he did for a navy pinstriped suit and oxford shirt should be illegal.

  By the time she’d worked her way back up to meet his gaze, she could almost feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

  “You seem a little hot under the collar, Zach. Would you like an ice water to help you cool down?”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “Knowing you, that water would likely get spilled ‘accidentally on purpose’ down my suit. No thanks.”

  “You overestimate my aggressive tendencies.”

  “I don’t think so. I still remember how you negotiated your sister’s settlement. You could teach a Doberman a thing or two about aggression.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Roger and your dad started S&L together. It was only fair that Roger’s widow get compensated for his share of the company. And in case you forgot, there was no buyout agreement in place when he died. I wouldn’t have had to push so hard if there had been.”

  “A buyout agreement wouldn’t have covered all the legal problems Roger caused,” Zach retorted. “In case you forgot, he was dabbling in suspect investments on the side.”

  Angie bit her lip. Zach didn’t even know the half of it. Luckily, Eva had managed to emerge—with Angie’s help—from the legal and financial nightmare following her husband’s death. She’d had to sell her house and scramble for a job, but in the end, everything had worked out for the best.

  Zach’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “In any case, that’s over and done with. But this—” he leaned forward and jabbed a finger at the paperwork he’d tossed on her desk “—is ridiculous, and you know it. S&L has jumped through all the regulatory hoops mandated by state and local government. Your client had plenty of time and opportunity to voice her concerns. The Environment Impact Review was released for public comment over a year ago. And in that time, the city council, planning commission, and rent control board have held dozens of hearings. Everyone’s objections were duly noted and addressed.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. The objections were swept aside and ignored. A de minimis change in your developmental agreement that doesn’t trigger further review of traffic and environmental impacts makes a mockery of the whole process. The city council basically rubber stamped whatever plans you put in front of it, with complete disregard for the residents’ concerns.”

  “Everything S&L did was by the book,” Zach said.

  “Maybe in your view, but my client sees it differently. And at this point, the only way to get the city council to sit up and take notice and hopefully redress her grievances is exactly this.” She nodded toward the manila envelope between them. “And while the courts re-examine everything, the injunction we’re requesting will at least prevent you from demolishing my client’s home.”

  He scowled. “This is extortion, plain and simple. S&L made a more than generous offer for relocation payments to the residents. Your client was the only one who refused to sign.”

  “She had good reason.”

  Zach took a deep breath. “Look, let’s cut to the chase here. What will it take for this to go away?”

  “If you’re asking me that, you obviously haven’t read our complaint carefully enough. It’s all spelled out in black and white.”

  “I read it,” he said. “And it’s complete bullshit.”

  Angie shook her head. “For shame, counselor. Is that the kind of language they teach you at Harvard Law?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Angie…”

  “You know the drill, Zach. Thirty days to file your a
nswer.” She ushered him toward the door. “I’ll see you in court.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  A week later, Zach was still fuming. But he knew better than to vent his frustration in front of his father.

  Tom Stewart had a soft spot for his late business partner’s widow, and by extension, her sister Angie. That sentimentality was what resulted in Angie getting such a good deal for her sister four years ago. Had it been up to Zach, the terms of the buyout would have been nowhere near as generous.

  This time, Zach meant to win the legal battle. It wasn’t just money at stake—though every day of construction delay was costing the company tens of thousands of dollars. And it wasn’t even a question of ego—though he certainly relished the prospect of gaining the upper hand over Angie. It was, quite simply, a matter of life and death. His father’s.

  Six months ago, Tom suffered a massive heart attack. One minute he was inspecting a job site, and the next he was on the ground, pale as primer.

  Three stents later, Tom’s cardiologist read him the riot act. “You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor said. “If you want to keep it that way, you’ll quit smoking, take your medications as prescribed, and reduce stress.”

  The first two were a piece of cake compared to the third. And this lawsuit wasn’t helping matters.

  The only way Zach could convince his dad to slow down and take it easy was to settle the case as soon as possible. That would get the project back on track. And as an added benefit, it would prove to Tom that even if he retired, the company would remain in good hands with his son.

  With that goal in mind, Zach tried to push aside all extraneous distractions. Like the memory that kept cropping up of Angie’s insolent inspection of him head-to-toe. As if he were a piece of merchandise on display. It was insulting. Demeaning. And undeniably arousing. She couldn’t have provoked a greater response if she’d run her fingers down his naked body.

  Somehow he’d managed to stay still and maintain at least the semblance of indifference. Barely.

  And then she’d had the gall to smirk.

  Considering the purpose of his visit, her obvious amusement reignited the anger that had brought him to her office in the first place.

  “Any chance of getting this thrown out of court?”

  Zach snapped back to the conversation around the conference table. The question had come from Bob Geller, S&L’s VP of Development.

  “Sorry,” Zach said. “But this is Santa Monica, capital of the green movement. No judge would dare throw out a CEQA case here.”

  “We’ve dealt with nuisance suits before.” Tom looked up from the papers he’d been skimming. “It’s just a matter of figuring out how much the other side is willing to settle for.”

  “That’s crazy,” Bob said. “If someone’s out to screw you, you don’t just bend over and make it easy.”

  Zach scrawled another note on the page in front of him. “We’re not planning on making it easy. But we do need to come up with some kind of strategy here. The sooner I get this paperwork filed, the faster we can get back to doing business.”

  “Fine,” Bob said. “What do you need from me?”

  They spent the next hour brainstorming potential responses to each cause of action in the complaint.

  At some point, Bob stepped out to take a call, and Tom leaned back in his chair. “Why do you really think she’s doing this?”

  “The plaintiff? Or Angie?”

  “Both. Either.”

  “The money, of course.”

  Tom frowned. “They’re not actually asking for any here.”

  “Unless you count attorney’s fees.”

  Tom waved that aside. “There’s got to be something else at stake. Something we’re not seeing. I mean, why would this woman even care about Land Use and Circulation Element requirements?”

  “Maybe she’s an ex-hippie, looking to relive her glory days. Or maybe she’s bored and wants her fifteen minutes of fame.” Zach swept his notes into a folder. “Or maybe she sees this as her chance to blackmail the big bad developer into funding her retirement. What does it matter?”

  “If we don’t know what’s motivating her,” Tom said, “we can’t even begin to guess what she’ll agree to.”

  Zach sighed. “I did a little digging. She’s seventy-six years old, on a fixed income. Retired nurse. Husband’s not in the best of health. There are no kids. No family other than the husband, as far as I can tell.”

  “You think it’ll help if I talk to her?”

  “Technically, the only talking you can do with her is through me.”

  “What about Angie?” Tom said. “Maybe I should talk with her instead.”

  “She’s counsel for the plaintiff. Same rule applies.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll handle this.” He rose and gathered all the files into his briefcase. “I’ll have a draft ready for you to review by tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “But you don’t understand,” Phyllis Callahan said. “I need for you to drag this out. The longer, the better. Isn’t that what lawyers do?”

  “No, Mrs. Callahan,” Angie repeated for the third time in twenty minutes. “That is not what we do. Certainly not what I plan to do here.”

  “But you’ll get paid more—”

  “Not if we end up losing,” Angie said. “If S&L wins this case, we get paid nothing. That’s how contingency works. The judge might even order us to pay the defendant’s legal fees.”

  “Then you just have to make sure we don’t lose.”

  Angie gritted her teeth. If she’d known from the start how difficult her client would be, she might have thought twice about taking the case.

  But she’d been blinded by compassion. A woman whose husband was dying of lung cancer shouldn’t be facing eviction from her home of thirty-two years. Even with the twelve-month lead time mandated by Santa Monica, and the admittedly generous relocation package offered by S&L, there was no way the Callahans would be able to find a comparable apartment with such easy access to the doctors and hospital where Mr. Callahan was receiving treatment. Certainly not at current market rates. Santa Monica simply did not have enough affordable housing. Waiting lists for the precious few rent-controlled units that periodically came available were a mile long. As Mrs. Callahan pointed out, her husband didn’t have the luxury of time.

  That was how Angie got hooked into agreeing to play David to S&L’s Goliath.

  And if, in the process, she managed to score a victory for advocates of more affordable housing and environmental rights, more power to her.

  What she hadn’t counted on was Phyllis Callahan’s refusal to compromise. Apparently, between taking her husband for chemo treatments and protesting at every city council public hearing where S&L appeared on the agenda, the woman still had time to watch too many TV law shows. It gave her a skewed perception of how the legal system really worked.

  For one thing, in real life most civil cases never made it to trial. Instead, they got settled out of court. Preparing for the inevitable negotiation was key, and that required client buy-in.

  Which was why Angie was here, in her office after hours, explaining the process to Mrs. Callahan yet again.

  Fifteen minutes later, a knock on the door saved Angie from growling in frustration.

  Cheryl, one of her law partners, popped her head in. “Sorry to interrupt. I emailed you those briefs you wanted. Everything’s pretty much tucked in, and I brought Naomi up-to-date on my cases. Do you need anything else before I leave?”

  Angie shook her head. “Enjoy your babymoon.”

  “Will do,” Cheryl grinned. “And thanks for covering.”

  The door clicked shut. The sound reverberated inside Angie’s head.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed a thumb into the hollow just above her right eye. A few more minutes, and the pain there would blossom into a full-blown migraine. She tried to remember if she had any Imitrex in he
r purse.

  “Is that her first baby?” Mrs. Callahan asked.

  “Second.”

  “I hope she knows how lucky she is. Children are such a blessing.” She fiddled with the strap on her weathered handbag. “Sean and I weren’t able to have any. I prayed for years, but I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.”

  Angie glanced up at the quaver in Mrs. Callahan’s voice. She’d forgotten, in the frustration of the last hour or so, how frail her client really was. Barely five foot two, with watery gray eyes and a cloud of white hair that reminded Angie of a dandelion puff, at the moment she looked every one of her seventy-six years.

  “I’m sorry.” Angie nudged a box of tissues toward her. She really hoped the woman wouldn’t cry. Unlike Angie’s sister-in-law Grace, who was a psychiatrist and knew all the right things to say no matter the situation, Angie felt awkward in the presence of uninhibited emotion. Legal arguments she could deal with. In a contest of wits, she could dish out comebacks with the best of them. But the prospect of tears had her searching for the nearest exit.

  Mrs. Callahan blew her nose. “Do you have kids?”

  “No.”

  “A husband?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, dear. What are you waiting for?”

  Angie took a deep breath and redirected the conversation back to legal strategies.

  But later, after Mrs. Callahan had gone home, after the cleaning crew came and left, after the Imitrex had finally kicked in, Angie continued to sit in her office, pondering the question.

  It wasn’t the first time someone had asked her that.

  Her mother did it regularly enough, but Angie figured that was part of the job description. In any case, her father was good at diverting attention away from hot-button topics.

  But as Angie’s siblings, colleagues, and friends paired up, settled down, and started popping out babies, she couldn’t help feeling a little left out.

  Three years ago, when she’d left BigLaw to start a small boutique firm with two other friends, they had all been on the same footing. Ambitious, energetic, still idealistic enough to believe they could conquer the world—or at least some small part of it that dealt with matters of real estate law, estate planning, and intellectual property rights.